


Open Book

by Nenalata



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Closeted Brilliant Sylvain, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Studying, Tea, Zine: Rest Day (Fire Emblem)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:01:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24562027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nenalata/pseuds/Nenalata
Summary: "Sylvain," she said, and despite her disapproving tone, Sylvain perked up again. "Youdidsay we were going to study together, remember? Andjuststudy?"To her surprise, Sylvain seemed taken aback. It irked her."I mean..." He rolled onto his back, setting the book aside in the same fluid motion, and grinned up at her with a familiar twinkle in his dark brown eyes. "Wecanswitch things up if you want. I'm, you know, pretty flexible."*My relaxing lil piece for the Rest Day Zine, a charity zine whose proceeds all went towards COVID-19 relief for Feeding America!
Relationships: Sylvain Jose Gautier & Mercedes von Martritz, Sylvain Jose Gautier/Mercedes von Martritz
Comments: 7
Kudos: 84





	Open Book

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to [alaudarum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alaudarum/pseuds/alaudarum) for betaing my piece and becoming my friend as a result! You sure put up with a lot from me and I love every minute of it. There is no way for me to thank you without sounding like I'm making fun of you, so just. trust me. trust me that they're great, okay, and that I like that this story landed me a new good friend.
> 
> I hope you all are staying safe out there and can enjoy a bit of peaceful teatime with Sylvain and Mercedes.
> 
> You will regret following my twitter at [NenalataWrites](https://twitter.com/NenalataWrites), so you should follow my twitter.

With a dramatic huff, Mercedes flopped back against the bottom of the headboard and shut her book. "I need a rest," she declared. "Would you like some tea?"

No response.

"Sylvain?"

"Huh? Oh." Sylvain peered over the edge of the headboard at her, half visible behind his own book. "Yeah, sure. That'd be great, thanks."

And back to the pages he went.

Mercedes pushed herself to her feet slowly, stretching the creaks out of her spine one vertebra at a time. She filled her small kettle with fresh water from the pitcher and set it on the tiny hearth to boil. Sylvain did not glance up again, not once.

This was, perhaps, a good moment for Mercedes to return to her book, too. Sylvain preferred black tea, she knew, the sort with high-quality, fragile leaves requiring hot temperatures and hot temperatures _only_. The water would take some time to heat. Their impending doom in the form of a magical theory exam, however, was fast approaching, and Mercedes knew she would benefit from even an extra ten minutes of reading.

But her brain was absolute mush — softer than the freshly-baked teacakes Sylvain had bestowed upon her when he'd shown up to her room to study. " _Just_ study, I swear,” he'd winked anyway before she let him sweep past the doorway.

She sat at the table and broke off a piece of one of those cakes, nibbling delicately on the sugary, glazed crust. Perhaps it would be polite to offer one to Sylvain; he had brought them, after all. But he seemed so relaxed, sprawled out on her bed in the least sensual way one would expect from him: lying all lopsided on his stomach, one leg draped off the edge of the mattress, one thumb pressing between his lips so he could bite thoughtfully on the nail, the other keeping his place in the pages...

Sylvain hadn't noticed Mercedes' rude, embarrassing staring. But Mercedes did and turned her back on him, just in case he might look up and catch her.

"Which teapot would you like?" she asked.

Silence once more.

"Sylvain." The sound of his name roused him once more. Mercedes made a mental note to employ this attention-grabbing tactic later. Hopefully, she'd manage to retain the information.

"Shit, sorry. I mean — oops. Uh, what did you ask?"

The kettle puffed little bursts of steam. If she wasn't quick, she'd risk it whistling and boiling too hot. "Which teapot?"

"Oh. Well." Sylvain took the time to wink at her. "I trust you. You've got the very best taste, after all—"

Mercedes had selected a pale pink teapot with curling green flowering vines hugging the curves while he was busy flirting. "Bergamot, right?"

"Do you still have any rose? I liked the rose."

She did. With all the meticulousness she never could apply to her studies, Mercedes measured enough leaves for two, dropped them in the pot, and rescued the kettle from the hearth. By the time she'd finished arranging the cups and pot on the table, ready for the tea to steep and be served, Sylvain was engrossed in his book once more.

Mercedes peeked at the title as best she could, given his awkward reading angle. It wasn't even the theory book; they both had the same exam tomorrow and he wasn't even studying?

She sighed. Oh, how predictable.

"Sylvain," she said, and despite her disapproving tone, Sylvain perked up again. "You _did_ say we were going to study together, remember? And _just_ study?"

To her surprise, Sylvain seemed taken aback. It irked her.

"I mean..." He rolled onto his back, setting the book aside in the same fluid motion, and grinned up at her with a familiar twinkle in his dark brown eyes. "We _can_ switch things up if you want. I'm, you know, pretty flexible."

Despite the unfortunately sensual grace his previously-sprawled body now showed off, and despite her own unfortunate blush, Mercedes's frown deepened, as did her hurt. "But you said—"

"Oh." Abruptly, Sylvain sat up and tousled his hair away from "seductively roguish" and into "sheepishly messy." He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, sitting up properly now. "Sorry, misunderstood. You, uh, you know how it is."

She did not, in fact. But she did know how it was for _him_. "We have the theory exam tomorrow," she reminded him. "I find it very hard to focus when my study partner isn't... well, studying. Forgive me for saying so."

Sylvain only fixed her with the same befuddled expression. "I'm..." He cut himself off, shook his head, and came to join her at the table. Wordlessly, she poured each of them a cup of tea. Rich, brown and fragrant, its floral warmth cozied up the room right away. They each sipped, Mercedes scalding her tongue, while Sylvain, who was much more experienced in drinking black tea, sighed in bliss.

"Man, you make tea better than anyone else, you know, Mercedes?"

"Certainly not better than the next girl you'll take tea with," she said, but her cheeks glowed with pleasure all the same.

"Ah, c'mon." The mild annoyance and hurt in his voice almost, _almost_ sounded genuine. She glanced up from her steaming teacup to find Sylvain frowning at her, reclining in his chair like it was his very own. "Everyone knows if they want a good cup of tea, they go to Mercedes von Martritz."

"Hm. Not Lorenz?" she asked as dismissively as she could, like she wasn't fishing for compliments. Sylvain, ever the philandering gentleman, let her. He scoffed.

"Saints, no. _No one_ wants to put up with Lorenz long enough for tea."

Mercedes stifled a laugh behind her hand and watched the tension leak out of Sylvain's shoulders at the sight. His crooked, unpracticed smile warmed something cuddly and nervous in her chest.

They drank tea in silence after that, punctuated only by Mercedes's literally sticky fingers sneaking more pastries to her plate or Sylvain sighing happily into a fresh cup of tea. The pot was halfway empty when Sylvain finally asked, "So. Studying's not going so great, huh?"

Now it was Mercedes' turn to sigh, but much less happily. "I don't know why I can't focus! Magical practice exams are so much simpler and I don't know why. You know how slow I am in combat exercises, but I never seem to have trouble casting spells on time."

Sylvain rubbed his chin thoughtfully but said nothing. Mercedes took that as encouragement to continue complaining.

"It's when we have to remember terms such as... such as..." She struggled to come up with a good example, failed, and threw her hands in the air, narrowly managing not to knock her full teacup over in the process. "Look at me. I'm so scattered, I can't even remember a word to forget! I'm the silliest student in class."

"You're not silly," Sylvain said automatically. He was being nice, Mercedes knew, but the reassurance helped. Even though it was only a smidge. He sighed and set his empty cup back on the table, crossing his arms behind his head to think it over. Mercedes wondered what it was like to be able to focus on a thought so long as to merit deep concentration. Her mind could wander even during the most serious of times, too distracted by resurfacing memories triggered by her current thoughts, memories she'd forgotten hours or days or years ago, things she'd forgotten when she'd needed them _then_ —

"I mean, what matters is you're good at _doing_ it, right? The words and calculations... you just have to deal with them right now for a stupid exam. Just don't become a theory professor." Sylvain quirked a grin at her, but Mercedes was still catching up with the renewed conversation trail.

"I... I'm… good at doing... spells! Right, doing spells." She nodded, pleased by how quickly she'd recovered. "Yes, that is something, I suppose. But I still do have to... 'deal with them' tomorrow."

Sylvain shrugged. "Great. So let's get you to memorize them just for tonight and tomorrow. After that? You can forget all about 'em. Just don't quiz a patient on whether he prefers healing magic channeled from the global white mana system or your own grounded faith reserves. Might lose confidence in your expertise, right?"

Mercedes' jaw dropped. Sylvain's eyes widened, like he'd made some mortifying social gaff. His laugh came out too quickly. "Or whatever they're called."

"No, no," she said. "I remember that. I remembered just now! That's in... that was in the... third chapter, I believe. On magical sources related to... to renewal, to..." She squeezed her eyes shut, like the words would swim from her brain and smack straight against the inside of her eyelids. "Oh, no! Say it again; I can _almost_ remember, I know it!"

"Uh. I don't..." The longer Sylvain hesitated, the further the words swam _away_. "Global... white mana system or, uh, individualized grounded faith reserves. I think. Could be wrong—"

"And you can draw on either to cast white magic, no matter the severity of the wound! But if you yourself are injured, you might have more trouble drawing from the global white mana system, since you're less connected to... to basic life energy, ah... "

"Better to cast an offensive spell," Sylvain prodded gently, "using—"

"Using your own grounded faith reserves," Mercedes rattled off, excited beyond belief, "and an offensive spell like Nosferatu!"

"Look at you!" Sylvain commended her too cheerfully. He raised his teacup in a toast. "See? You know way more than me."

While Sylvain downed the rest of his tea, Mercedes' gaze wandered over to her bed and the random Dagdan history book Sylvain had been reading instead of studying.

Tucked against her pillow, its spine slightly, freshly cracked, was the same magical theory book lying abandoned on the floor beside her previous study space.

"Maybe," she said, hesitating. Sylvain lifted a brow and waited for her to continue. "Maybe we can study together like this. Perhaps two heads are better than one?"

Sylvain was quiet for a very, very long time. Mercedes couldn't read a single emotion on his usually open face.

And then he laughed, too loudly, too falsely, and Mercedes wondered how anyone could possibly fall for this type of charm when he could be so genuinely, beautifully considerate on his own.

"Yeah, sure! You're so smart, though; I bet I'll learn way more from you than anything _I_ can manage."

Mercedes hid another smile. "Wonderful. I do so like a challenge. Sometimes, anyway."

They finished their tea. Mercedes kept herself from polishing off the teacakes and begrudgingly offered the rest to Sylvain, who, predictably, winked, took only one and said spending time with her was _sweet enough_.

But as they settled down to the floor again, her book — and only hers, for Sylvain's poorly-concealed book remained shoved under the pillow — lay open to the side for reference and each of them went back and forth quizzing each other.

"Yeah, perfect, Mercedes; you got it! And how much power should you channel for this spell?"

"Um… You can… "

"Hint: It's a specific number."

"Oh, dear! Are you sure? I can't… I can't—"

"Ha! Uh, maybe — maybe we should check the book? I feel like it was, like, at least a double-digit—"

"Oh! Right! It requires this calculation…"

"Yeah, you got it! Let's check the book to confirm, though."

"Oh! I was right! Your turn next. Ah… Which of the following scholars wrote about grounded faith reserves within the body if stimulated by—"

"Easy. Cornelia Arnim."

"Wh—that was so fast! How did you know?"

"Portrait of her in the Fhirdiad School of Sorcery apothecary, wall above the mortar and pestles, low-cut dress. Seriously, you never noticed? I did and I'd only been visiting."

"Oh. You're right. Oh, I remember that dress!"

"Yeah, I _bet_ you do… "

"Don't tease me! But I don't remember anything labeling that portrait about her accomplishments."

Sylvain didn’t reply. And after almost an hour of easy banter and studying, Mercedes finally understood something with melancholy confidence: Sylvain had been feigning ignorance this entire time, and now, he’d run out of words and excuses. He leaned against the edge of the mattress, hands behind his head, and stared at the ceiling. The taunting grin dropped from his lips.

"Sylvain," Mercedes said softly, placing a hand on his thigh. He lolled his head in her direction pillowed under his hands.

"Mercedes," he said, mocking her gentle tone. Her fingers tightened their grip.

"She only published her findings recently. In this newest edition." Mercedes used her other hand to tap the cover of the book. She offered him a teasing smile of her own. "Now, unless you seduced it out of her recently… "

That startled a laugh from him. A real one. "Who's to say I didn't? Good to know you have such confidence in my _talents_." Sylvain waggled his eyebrows at her. Mercedes sighed, patted his leg again, and retreated.

"How long did it take you to read the chapters today? Please don't lie to me. You'll make me sad if you do. You know I can tell."

Another pause. Sylvain sighed hard enough to make the wisps of hair escaping from her plait tickle her shoulders. He sat up and rested his arm on his knee. "Took me, I don't know, maybe two hours," he admitted. He raked his fingers through his hair, refused to meet her stare. "I'd sort of… already glanced at the material first, though."

"Glanced at?"

He flicked his eyes at her, only to dart them away back to the tea table. The faintest hint of pink graced the tops of his cheekbones when he said, "I'd read it last week. Thought that day's assignment was interesting and kind of… couldn't stop."

Mercedes stared at him, unmoving. The fast flutter of his eyelashes, the nervous swallow audible in his throat, the twitch of his fingers, the deepening pink of his cheeks… "That's nothing to be ashamed of," she told him as gently as she knew how.

"Ah, nah, I'm not ashamed of anything." His smirk didn't catch up to his words quickly enough to mask the lie in his tone.

Sylvain didn't appear willing to turn his head or expand upon the subject as long as she was fixing her eyes on his face. Mercedes relaxed against the bed and played with the edges of her scarf. "I wish I could be like you," she murmured.

And _that_ got Sylvain to whip his head around quickly enough that she worried he'd strained his neck. Mercedes went back to staring, more startled than before. "Goodness!"

"No, you don't," he said.

She pushed her brows together, struggling to follow. "I don't what?"

"You don't want to be like me." The wry grin he'd sported earlier, when he'd been telling falsehoods to her tea table, now had twisted into something worse for reasons she couldn't describe. Sylvain must have noticed just how wide her eyes were, however, because he relaxed once more and stretched his arms behind his neck. Maybe he had strained it after all. "You're… good, Mercedes. Don't ever change."

 _You're good, too_ , she wanted to say. But Sylvain's face informed her the subject was closed, like the theory book snapped shut on her bed, like her copy between them. "Well, maybe I do want to change a little," Mercedes said, but before his jaw could tighten too much, she added, "I'd like to be less forgetful of the material tomorrow."

She ignored Sylvain's quiet, relieved exhale and let him sit up with a smile again. Let him pretend to need help with magical equations, too. Let him try terrible pickup lines on her like _theory versus practice_ and _is that a staff in your robes or are you happy to see me_. Let him give her suggestions for quick information retention, just enough to tide her memory over until after the exam. Let him talk about his interest in military history that extended past current events and well into ancient peace treaties and outdated diplomatic methods. Let him take the last slice of cake with him when the hour grew late and her confidence had improved.

"Good night, Sylvain. And I know you'll do well tomorrow!"

"Night, Mercedes. You'll do great."

Let him lie to her face when he said—

"I'll be fine. You don't need to worry about me."


End file.
